


What Choices Have I?

by InstantMischief



Series: P5 [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:55:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28819596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InstantMischief/pseuds/InstantMischief
Summary: **** Royal spoilers !!! ****January is turning out to be cold, damp, and disastrously uncomfortable. Not only is the palace a complete slog of semantics and mind games, but there's a constant strange note in the atmosphere outside that grates on Akechi's nerves. It's like a persistent chemical smell in the air, the way things aren't quite right. Everyone else smiles blithely through the new year, while instead the phantom thieves bear the weight of knowing they have to take it all away, that this bubble is going to pop. The snow soaks through Akechi's clothes day after day as he walks past happy commuters in Shibuya to catch his train.So, it's rather jarring when one day, Akechi finds a kid lost in the subway, crying to themselves. Normally he'd walk right past, just like everybody else in the station, but then he catches a glimpse of long red hair...****
Relationships: (future / implied) Akira Kurusu/Goro Akechi, Akechi Goro & Sakura Futaba, third semester Akechi
Series: P5 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113176
Kudos: 10





	What Choices Have I?

Akechi reaches the station late and soaked through. It's snowing lightly and rush hour had him trudging through the slush at the unhurried speed of clustered foot traffic. He neglected to wear his waterproof gloves today as well, meaning his current gloves are unpleasantly wet. He huffs to himself, glancing up. If this is meant to be a dream world, it's a shitty one. Whoever wanted it to snow during rush hour clearly isn't out here in it.

Akechi removes one glove to let his hand dry and the cold breeze bites at his skin as the other train passes by. As he turns to put his glove away, a hushed murmur catches his attention from a few feet down the platform. A couple is standing close by on his right, sharing glances and whispering to each other in a concerned tone, which, considering the overall blithe atmosphere of Maruki's world, raises some alarm bells. It jars akechi out of his displeasure long enough to crane his neck around the crowd and see where the couple is looking.

At the far side of the platform, someone is sitting curled up in the corner created by the stairs. A steady stream of people filter past them, every once in a while glancing down to take stock as they reach the bottom of the stairs. It looks like a child got lost in the subway somehow... They're sitting there hiding in their arms, hood up over their head. They might be crying. It's hard to tell from this far away. The jacket covers most of their form as it is.

_ Should it even be possible right now, in Maruki's distortion, for a kid to suffer like that? _ Akechi muses, stealing polite glances every few moments.  _ Did the parents wish for it?  _

People start to pack into the platform as the next train nears. Akechi loses sight of the kid for a moment.

A minute later, the next train's left and akechi looks back over his shoulder one more time before his train arrives.

Oh, someone is talking to them now. The woman from that couple is sitting in front of them, trying to get them to respond. She looks around, confused. They must not be answering. Can't someone find a police officer? Take them to customer service. It's going to get dark soon.

The subway announcement pipes up with the name of Akechi's line. He pockets his phone and his singular damp glove. It's not his problem. A police officer will show up eventually. Maybe Maruki's on the case right now.

The woman finally reaches out and the kid flinches hard, closing even further in on themselves. It's then that Akechi catches a flash of red hair underneath the hood and the high warbling of a young girl’s voice. The train squeaks to a gradual stop as it reaches the station and the doors hiss open. People begin filtering past him to board as Akechi stands there, stopped in his tracks. 

The male from that couple touches the women's shoulder and motions to the train. She deliberates for a second, looking back and forth, but then says something to Futaba before letting the guy usher her towards the train.

They board ahead of Akechi and he finally steps out of the way. People continue walking by Futaba. The train announcer comes on a second time:  _ Doors closing, please stand back. _

Akechi turns back just in time to watch the doors seal closed. The wind of the train starting back up tosses his hair around, leaving it sticking to his skin in awkward, damp tangles. 

He could ignore this. He probably should. He should go get the police officer. He should text Akira and then get on the next train. 

Instead, he finds himself putting down his briefcase a few feet away from Futaba. Futaba's breaths hitch on her voice every few seconds, a pathetic attempt to mask her crying. Waiting to be noticed doesn't look like an option. He stands there and pauses for a long moment, unsure how to begin. Her hood droops all the way down over her face where she's buried it behind her knees.

Finally, he sighs and crouches down in front of her.

"Futaba?" Akechi tries.

Futaba goes still for a split second but does not move to look. She sniffles a few times, tightens her arms around her knees.

"Futaba?" No response. "Are you okay?"

Akechi huffs to himself, glancing back at his briefcase on the floor. What a stupid question. Futaba sobs into her arms, seemingly unaware of her surroundings. Akechi's not about to touch her to get her attention. It looks like she won't budge.

This was a mistake. What did he expect? He should've just texted Akira in the first place. Now he'll be waiting around in the damp and cold even longer for someone else to show up. 

"Can you hear me?" He tries a third time. Futaba doesn't seem to be present. Akechi grabs his briefcase and goes to stand back up. "I'll text Akira. He'll be here in ten minutes."

"No!" Futaba jolts but only just stops short of actually grabbing him. She draws her hand back and ducks her head, hiding her face again.

A glut of people catches in the stairwell above them, watching the scene out of the corner of one eye as they descend. They move on when akechi looks up, displeased.

Akechi places his briefcase back down. "Why not?"

Futaba clutches her knees for a moment, then mumbles something into her arms.

"I can't hear you like that." Akechi says. "What's wrong with Akira?"

Futaba tries again, barely any louder. 

"Just pick your head up." Akechi accidentally cuts the last part of her phrase off as she trails on.

Futaba shifts around under her jacket, pulling her head down even further into her hood. For a moment Akechi is confused, but then his phone vibrates in his pocket.

_ *Dont call akira _

It's a little idiotic, texting him from three feet away. It seems like she's done this before.

"Okay then, someone else." Akechi responds verbally but almost regrets it when it makes her flinch. She backspaces on the text she's been typing.

_ *Don't call anyone _

_ *Please _

Akechi knits his brows. He tries to speak more quietly this time, but it still seems to jangle Futaba's nerves. "What's the problem? They'll come get you." 

Futaba doesn’t offer up a response so Akechi continues. 

"Futaba, I'm sure they won't mind. Call someone over."

She shakes her head fervently and begins to type again.

_ *Don't want them to know _

That is… not what Akechi expected, somehow. He frowns down at his phone for a second, the screen covered in little prisms of water. Futaba has people who care about her. She shouldn’t have to sit in a subway station and cry. Any one of her friends would come get her in an instant. Sojirou would drive her home so she wouldn’t even have to get on the train. And yet, she’s worried about  _ them _ . 

Futaba sits there and shivers while Akechi stares out. Another train comes and goes. 

After a long minute of silence, Akechi sighs heavily. “Fine, come with me. We'll get on the last car."

Futaba squeaks in confusion, going stiff. She shakes her head no.

"I can't just leave you here." Akechi says.

Futaba's next couple texts come through in an instant.

_ *You can _

_ *I give you permission _

Akechi scoffs. "That's not how it works."

The announcer comes on with the name of the next train and a huge line of people steps up to board. Akechi takes a step to the side to see the arrivals list, scanning for Yongen.

"It's up to you," Akechi tells her. "The next line to yongen gets here in six minutes. Come with me, or call someone else, but I can't leave you here alone."

Futaba grouses a little, refusing to look his way. She lifts her glasses to paw at her eyes with the ends of her sleeves.

Akechi stands up and leans his back against the wall beside Futaba, going quiet for now. Futaba continues sniffling and wiping at her eyes. She looks around the tunnel like she's searching for a way out, or maybe trying to remember how she got into this mess. It takes a long minute, but she manages a few full breaths. They sit in silence like that for the remaining few minutes until the announcer comes on.

_ Yongen-Jaya… The next train is Yongen-Jaya.  _

As the announcement ends, Akechi pockets his phone and turns to face Futaba. She doesn't move, but at least now she's uncovered part of her face. Her cheeks are still wet, her glasses sitting askew, but he can see her hesitating.

With another hefty sigh, Akechi stoops a little and makes a show of putting his ungloved left hand out to help her up.

Futaba's eyes flick towards him for a moment but don't quite connect with any part of him. 

Finally, her eyes land on his outstretched hand. With a huff, she seems to find her resolve. Instead of taking his hand, she struggles upright on her own, using the wall for support. Her knees shake and threaten to buckle like a newborn deer but somehow she makes it. 

By the time she takes a step forward, Akechi realizes he's instinctively braced to catch her if she crumpled, and he draws back. Futaba shrinks in on herself in response. Even she seems confused by the staggering. She must have been stranded there longer than either of them realized.

An even larger crowd is lined up for the oncoming train this time, this line being one of the bigger destinations. Futaba looks around anxiously, seeing no good options for an escape route.

"This way." Akechi points down the platform to their left, farther down the line. "The last car will be less crowded."

Akechi takes a step in that direction and Futaba follows behind, albeit at a grindingly slow rate. She sticks to the wall the whole way, keeping as much distance as possible between the crowd and herself. When they have to turn the corner, bringing them closer to the crowd, Futaba slows almost to a stop. 

Akechi waits for her to catch up, but she's stalled in one spot again. 

"Stick behind me," he tells her. "Come on," but futaba still doesn't move.

They're almost around the corner to the far piece of the platform, if she'd just walk a few more steps. At this rate, it'd be easier to just physically pull her through the bottleneck. He considers it for a split second, reaching out and pulling her forward, but that would draw too much attention. Maybe it would be best if she walked in front so he could push her along. He steps to the side and motions for her to go ahead of him.

Futaba swallows her nerves and takes a few more tiny steps. Instead of letting him usher her ahead though, she catches onto his outstretched sleeve.

Akechi looks down at the weak tug on his jacket. Futaba has ducked her head to hide behind her hood, but her grip is fierce. That works, he supposes.

With Futaba now attached, he's able to lead her through the bottleneck and down the platform to where it's a bit more sparse. By the time they reach the yellow line, the overhead speaker dings, announcing the train's arrival. It squeals into the station and opens up for people to start pouring in. Futaba’s grip gets her dragged along in Akechi’s wake as the line starts to move forward. Just as they’re about to make it across the line into the car, a man rushes past and squeezes onto the train, breaking the link between them. 

Akechi feels the tug on his sleeve go slack, but the last few people push him farther away before he can turn back for her. He’s almost too late, tripping back to stop the doors from closing, but someone near the exit catches the door just as it starts to move.

The doors hitch and then hiss back open. Futaba shrinks back, all the passengers at the mouth of the door turning their attention towards her. 

“Futaba-” Akechi stalls when Futaba flinches back from his reach. 

Futaba has already begun to angle herself away from the train. One more inch back, and she’ll turn tail and run. It was one thing when Akechi could stand in front of her to block her view, but with a train car of people eyeing her? It’s too much.

As things stretch on, more passengers lean around the windows to see what the holdup is. A low mumbling starts to filter out from the car. Something’s got to give.

As a last ditch effort, Akechi retracts the arm he reached out to her and instead shimmies his hand a little deeper in his sleeve to offer her the loose fabric to grip onto again. It’s awkward, leaning out farther in front of a gawking crowd, but he does it anyway. 

The man who caught the door for them shuffles to the side as much as he can and beckons her towards the space he’s made. 

Futaba stares first at the space and then Akechi’s outstretched sleeve, blinking a new round of tears out of her eyes. With shaky fingers, she takes hold of his sleeve again, and wobbles over the line.

The doors shut, the train starts up, and most of the passengers return to spacing out over their phones.

Akechi thanks the man who caught the door, turning on one of his  _ talk show _ smiles for just a moment. The man smiles back with the same eerie blitheness as the rest of the passengers and Akechi can’t help but clam up a little. You’d think with everyone acting so kind, it’d be easier to manage the crowds, but it’s somehow worse. It’s no wonder Futaba shut down in the middle of all this.

The train jostles into a curve and Akechi feels the pull on his sleeve increasing. He looks down to find Futaba sliding to the floor, unable to keep up with the rumbling of the car without getting closer to someone to hold a handrail. Her grip slips away as she sinks back into the same position as before, her face behind her knees. 

"Most of them will get off soon,” Akechi leans over to reassure her. “It's only two stops."

"I know." She responds curtly.

Akechi glances down at her again, then goes quiet and straightens back up. Of course she knows that. She’s ridden this train many times. 

With only the screeching of the train to fill the space, there’s not much else to do but stew in the awkwardness. It’s awful how absurd this all is-- Akechi, of all people, helping Futaba through a subway station, by her choice no less. She’s flinching at his every move, uncomfortable in the extreme, and she’d still rather cling reluctantly to his sleeve than call her friends to come get her. 

Maybe he should’ve reached out with the gloved hand, Akechi muses… As if that would make things any easier, really. It’s still him. It’s not his trigger hand, but that doesn’t make much of a difference. 

The majority of the crowd does leave the car at the next stop. Futaba struggles back upright to give the people deboarding more room and stays that way the rest of the ride. Sometime during the last leg of the trip, she gets the end of Akechi’s sleeve back in her fingers.

Futaba follows slow but a bit less shaky on the way up through the station, using him to swim through the sparser swarm of commuters. He walks her up to the stairs that lead to leblanc, but she stops there in the tunnel once they can see pale blue of twilight filtering in at the end.

"I can take it from here." Futaba says. 

"Right, of course." 

Futaba looks off to the side, hesitating. “Thank you,” she starts.

“Certainly.” Akechi waits, but Futaba doesn’t move on. 

"Hey, uh…” Futaba draws in on herself a little, her voice going quiet. “Don’t tell anybody that this happened."

“I won't." Akechi promises, but still Futaba doesn’t walk past him. 

There's an awkward beat while Futaba glances past him, again avoiding direct contact with him. Akechi keeps waiting. He’s cold and exhausted, but he holds his tongue. 

After a moment of thought, Futaba pipes up.

“It’s just, I thought--” She stalls, then smoothes her fingers over the middle of her bangs, a habit she’s picked up from Akira to partially hide her face. “-thought I was fine after my palace went away. But then my mom was here, and I… had to lose her all over again. And it was my choice.”

Akechi stares out at the space behind her, nonplussed. Her voice is clear now, if still a little wet, but with hardly a trace of the panic from earlier. Not ten minutes ago, she was afraid to get too close, but now she’s saying this, to  _ him _ ? He doesn’t respond. There’s no way  _ to _ respond. 

Futaba’s eyes land squarely on him for the first time that day, giving him a hard look from head to toe. "You're…" she trails off. 

Akechi focuses back on her and the look on her face says it all--  _ That’s why _ . 

"Back in November…” Futaba continues, “I felt your signal drop out."

"And yet here I stand." Akechi splays one hand out to gesture at himself with a mirthless smile.

"You've thought about this already." Futaba says levelly.

"A bit," he admits. 

Futaba doesn't say anything else, just gives him the same look-- that pinched expression that people wear when they know they’re walking on eggshells with him, tiptoeing around his past. It’s how people look when they’re lost on exactly what to say, how best not to harm him. His lips curl a bit.

"I don’t care,” Akechi snaps mildly. “It's not as if it matters."

"Akira's going to care." Futaba cuts back quickly. She levels him with a hard stare, and this time he’s the one who averts his eyes first. 

Akechi looks at the rest of the hallway, the rain-slick murky tile of the stairs. The snarl pulling at his lips tightens. "Of course. That's just like him." 

When nothing else is said, Akechi turns and begins to walk back into the depths of the subway. Futaba watches him go.

“Akechi,” she calls after him a moment later.

He turns back, one step down the stairs, but doesn’t say anything.

“You should tell him.”

Akechi gives one sour laugh and continues descending the stairs. "Let him puzzle it out on his own, if he hasn't already."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you're staying healthy and having a wonderful new year <3
> 
> I did this randomly over Christmas break, however it might actually become the preamble to a longer fix-it fic later on (that is if I ever find the motivation to write it out) ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Also, shameless self-promotion: I'm half of [twitch.tv/OneWholeIdiot.](https://twitch.tv/OneWholeIdiot) We stream Saturday nights / randomly throughout the week and we're dumb as rocks.


End file.
